Arts, Environment and the Child: Walking the Wheel of the Seasons

It always feels so good to pull up the drive. This time, I was met by a foraging deer a little wet from the constant rain. I stayed motionless until the deer decided to move on into the woods, then went in. It turned out I was alone for the day, so I heated up the water for tea and got to work. I fixed the trim in the bedroom, painted the second coat on the stairs, tore up the carpet in the hallway, and scraped then swept the disintegrated foam beneath.

We're moving into February, still very much a winter, yet nature is alive with the budding energy of spring. Indian plums are well-advanced, smelling of cucumbers and reminding me of corns, which makes remembering the name easy. Nettles are popping up everywhere, and the flowers in my garden are peeking out. Yet the maple down the road has yet to let go of her leaves. It still feels so much like winter-or fall depending on how you look at it-yet nature is under the full impression that its spring. The water in the dam is overflowing and still. The fish ladder is rushing, roaring. Winter time, and the land is sodden, waiting, rushing.

Carin Christy's office.

This image came out of the lesson plan from last quarter.

I spent the morning with Carin Christy, who was kind enough to talk with me and offer advice and resources on art as healing. I was especially inspired by the idea of "closing up" emotionally at the end of exposing yourself to the emotions of therapy; of "keeping it contained" while the work is in progress; and of the symbolic relevancy of wet materials to exposed emotions and dry materials to controlled, for example. I stopped at the library afterward and put a few books on hold, checked out a few others for artful inspiration, and typed up my notes at home..

Inspired to make "self boxes" and/or mandalas.

Driving home tonight I saw a racoon dead in the road. It's fresh blood still reflecting the moonlight. I stopped to see if it was still alive. It was not, though still pliable when I picked her up to move her out of the road. I picked her up by her shoulders, not sure if her guts would hang out of her belly, but they did not. I carried her across the stream in the ditch to lay her at peace on the earth in the soft cast of the moonlight just inside the tree line. Here she could decompose and feed the earth in peace.

Everytime I drive I support the roads that allow us to kill living creatures so needlessly.

I had already done a photo and planning session for the garden so I went with my friend Chae to a favorite river spot of hers in order to harvest river rocks for the herb spiral in the center of the perennial herb garden I built. We took our time being with the space, introducing ourselves. We built a small village of stone people guardians along a branch...figured it'd be awhile before they had to pass each other.

It was so nice being out with the buds, debris, and rushing water. Winter soft feet squishing sand and toughin' up on the rocks. Breaking and basking in the glorious sun. Spring in February. Winter seems to be half about going inside and half about getting ready to come back out. I can feel all the activity that goes into the coming of spring, like we've definitely turned the corner between the two.

We brought our backpacks and hiked back and forth along the dam and debris and trail that led back to where her car was parked. Carrying only about 7-10 large rocks at a time.

When we got back she agreed to help me lay in the rocks we'd harvested - which ended up being only enough for one complete circle, and then enough dirt to fill the first level of the spiral. Darkness fell just as we finished up. I need to get my hands on an herb spiral schematic or remember how its done from this point.

Quotes from a Mayan reading: You, like the symbol of the evergreen tree, are alive and green amidst the process of apparent death and transformation of winter. Green creates a feeling of balance and restful calm. It is restorative and healing, grounding, and centering...

At a certain point, when a critical threshold has been focused on a clear intent...the underlying constructs of reality shift and a new reality begins filtering into human experience...great change is seeded by conscious dreamers who understand and know they are co-creating the larger dream.

This time last year I was exposed and trodden.

I see the world in my belly, and my mother in my navel.